


Spanish Defence

by TheFreakZone



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: FrUK, M/M, One-Shot, SpAus - Freeform, but the couples aren't the important thing, mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFreakZone/pseuds/TheFreakZone
Summary: Captain of the Royal Navy Arthur Kirkland is on his way to a Spanish city in Jamaica, fully intending to conquer it. With no soldiers or weapons, Antonio Fernández Carriedo must defend it. One-shot.





	Spanish Defence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcatxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcatxx/gifts).



> Just a comment: whenever something a character says is italicized, it means he's speaking in the opposite language of the one narrating; i.e., if Arthur's narrating, it's in Spanish, and if Antonio's narrating, it's in English.  
> I'll add a few notes at the end to explain some concepts or historic references you may not get.
> 
> Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me (but y'all would be much happier if it did)
> 
> Based on a real story.

**KIRKLAND**

Maybe the sun doesn’t set on the Spanish Empire, but the bastards don’t have to remind everyone, do they? “We’re the biggest empire the world has ever seen,” they say, prepotent.

_Wi’r thi biggist impirii thi wirld his ivir siin_.

Assholes.

Then they overestimate themselves, build a freaking huge armada to invade England and fail so hard; half of it sinks and it’s the biggest ridicule of the century. Okay, yes, we screwed up even worse the following year… But who cares, no one remembers that! Ask anyone about _the Invincible Armada_ and you’ll see nobody will ask whether you’re talking about the Spanish or the English. Other things I don’t know, but we’re the best at derogative propaganda.

Anyway. Yes, their empire might be ginormous and all that, but they’re not indestructible. Okay, the Dutch shit themselves just by hearing talking about the _tercios_ or about the sweet and kind Duke of Alba, and okay, Spain now has Portugal licking its ass and they’re even more powerful… But come on, we’re at the bloody Caribbean. The _tercios_ don’t come here, and the Duke kicked the bucket many years ago. So we’re going to Jamaica to kick their asses; let’s see if they finally leave the fucking island and it becomes fully British.

That’s why I’m here, Captain Arthur Kirkland of the Royal Navy, with a ship, lots of soldiers and willing to have some fun, in front of the city the Spaniards have set as Jamaica’s capital. And they’ve called it _Spanish Town_. Modest, aren’t they?

 

**CARRIEDO**

Fucking hell. The English couldn’t have appeared at a worse moment. The fuckers have waited until our last unit of soldiers left. Bastards.

When we’re home, back in Europe, we hate the French much more. We’ve despised each other since forever. Besides, the frogs don’t do anything to improve relationships: give me Italy, it’s mine; screw religion, I’m going to ally with the Turk and fuck you; give us time, maybe in a couple of centuries we’ll invade you… And still, despite them being so annoying, the English can be even worse. Don’t talk with them about ships, because they’ll mention the Invincible and go all prepotent, as if they had done something. And they still think they’re awesome because they have thirteen crappy colonies in America. Aren’t they cute?

As I was saying, they’ve arrived at the worst moment possible. And here I am in Spanish Town, no soldiers, more chicken than people, staring as a ship from the English Navy sails closer with not-so-good intentions. (I know that because they’re English, not because it’s a war ship.)

Fucking shit.

“If they attack, we won’t live to tell it,” Peláez says by my side.

He’s a good guy, except when he gets those optimism bursts. Although I have to admit he’s not wrong. But fuck, we’re Spanish, the bloody English won’t beat us when it comes to _son-of-a-bitch-ness_. They won’t set foot in this city, as certain as my name is Antonio Fernández Carriedo.

 

**KIRKLAND**

I wave the flag to let them know I come to parlay. It should be obvious, because a single man walking towards the city isn’t a threat, but you never know… Especially with the Spanish. A lot of fighting, yes, but very little thinking. Then they write a couple of best-sellers about some crazy dude and they think they’re intellectuals. Ah, but they don’t get nowhere near Shakespeare.

Literature aside, I’ve been standing like an idiot here for a long while, and the Spaniards won’t bother coming. I’ll be damned. I’ve come with all my good will to ask them to surrender (because musket bullets are expensive and blood is difficult to wash off), and they completely ignore me. It might be because they’re so fucking proud and maybe they’ll rather stay behind the walls and not admit they are defenceless. Oh well, it’ll be their funeral.

After waiting for a little longer, I’m about to leave and start preparing the ship cannons when the doors of the city open and a Spaniard comes out and walks towards me, calmly. Son of a bitch. I’m sure he’s been waiting until I was about to leave just to annoy me.

And he smiles and waves at me, the bastard.

If we end up attacking (which is the most probable thing, knowing them and knowing us), I’m going to make sure he’s the first to die.

 

**CARRIEDO**

The Englishman was more patient than I expected, but it still wasn’t enough for us to finish preparing my (wonderfully perfect) defence plan. So, of course, because it was my idea, it had to be me the one who went out to keep him entertained a little longer.

“Don’t worry, Carriedo,” García (the asshole) has said to me. “If he kills you, we’ll name a street after you.”

Not even a square. Bastards.

I finally reach the Englishman, and the first thing I notice is that he has two monstrous eyebrows. They remind me of the caterpillars my brother and I used to burn when we were little. However, the moment I study the rest of his features, I can’t help but think it’s a shame we’re enemies, because I  have to admit he’s very hot. He’s blonde, which is kind of exotic, and has fair skin and green eyes.

Such a waste…

_Fuck, Antonio_ , I mentally reprimand myself. _You have Roderich waiting for you in Austria_.

(In case it wasn’t clear enough: I like men. _Complete fag_ , in my brother’s own words. Yes, we love each other a lot.)

“ _I have come to negotiate your surrender_ ,” the blondie says.

I blink a few times. I’ve perfectly understood him, but come on. We’re in Spanish territory, aren’t we? Stick to it, then. Besides, I have to keep him occupied for a while. Heh. This is going to be fun.

“Talk to me in Spanish, you shitty Englishman.”

 

**KIRKLAND**

Those stupid Spaniards are capable of having sent the only asshole that doesn’t speak English. I swear they’re one of a kind. Okay, I may not be the best Spanish-speaker of my company, but at least I can somewhat have a conversation! Or I would, if the bastard spoke at a reasonable speed, but he’s said it so fast I haven’t understood a thing. _Spanish_ and _Englishman_ , basically.

“You’re kidding me,” I mutter, before repeating what I’ve said but louder and slower.

The Spaniard blinks, doesn’t say a word, and I definitely confirm he doesn’t speak English. So I’m going to be the one that has to swap languages. Fuck my life.

“ _I have come_ ,” I start, slow and (most likely) with a terrible accent, “ _to, uh, negotiate?_ Yes, _to negotiate your surrender_.”

The Spaniard smiles (fuck, what a smile, I’d like one of those for myself. He’s so handsome, the fucker) and shakes his head. At first I think he’s saying that no, they won’t surrender no matter what, but then I realize he actually means another thing: _I haven’t understood shit_.

I sigh loudly. This is going to be so long.

 

**CARRIEDO**

“ _You don’t speak English?_ ” he asks.

I’m about to shake my head, but that’d confirm I’ve understood the question, so I just frown and tilt my head.

“ _I’ll take that as a no_ ,” he groans, and then he fucks up my beautiful language once again. “You surrender. Our ship much big, much soldiers. You no soldiers. Yes?”

“You want us to surrender?” I ask, feigning surprise.

“Uh— yes?” he says. I’m certain he hasn’t understood a single word I’ve said. “If you surrender, we take city and not kill anyone.”

“And what if we don’t?”

“ _What?_ If you no surrender? We kill everyone.”

“Aren’t you violent,” I say, fast so he doesn’t understand me, and then I speak slower: “We’re not going to surrender. It’s not our style. _We no surrender_ ,” I repeat in English, making sure to speak it as bad as I can.

He frowns and I bet he’s mentally murdering me. Okay, yes, I may have been a bit cocky, but he should’ve expected it. I’m Spanish, after all.

“ _You’re crazy_ ,” he hisses. “ _You’re all going to die because of your damn pride_.”

I smile. I think I’ve already bought us enough time with all this act, so I can allow myself to reveal my little secret… and make sure to never forget the face he’s going to make.

“ _Maybe, but I’ve totally ribbed you._ ”

 

  **KIRKLAND**

… Fucking son of a bitch. He’s made me speak Spanish like a retard when he’s fluent in English. I’m going to kill him. I swear I’ll kill him.

I’ve missed my chance, though, because he’s taken advantage of my confusion and is already running up the hill towards the city. He’s out of my musket’s reach. I’m tempted to follow him, but he’s almost in the city by now; not only I won’t reach him, but I’d also be an easy target for the Spaniards. They may not have weapons, but they’re capable of throwing stones at me.

Bunch of bastards. Fuck, my face must have been a sight to behold. No wonder he was laughing his ass off as he ran away. Change of plans: he won’t be the first to die; he’ll be the last. I’m going to make sure he suffers the slowest, most painful death the human being can imagine. The Inquisition will be a kind group of grandpas by my side.

“Fuck you!” I yell with all my might towards the city. Then, furious, I turn and make a beeline to my ship. The crew’s waiting for me, and they must have read on my face that the negotiation (if it can be called that) wasn’t good, since they don’t ask any questions. “Everyone disembark,” I bark. “We’re taking that city with fire and blood.”

**CARRIEDO**

I’m still laughing my ass off when I enter Spanish Town again. Really, his face was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. It will have been worth it even if we lose. Although I don’t think that’ll happen, knowing the surprise we have for them.

“I see you’ve had fun,” someone says next to me, and I wave my hand. I still can’t breathe from all I’ve laughed (and the race uphill). “We’ve gathered all the bulls and cows we could. There are around twenty-five, thirty.”

Yes, I’ve seen that. Right after coming in, the first thing I’ve seen was a bunch of bulls that looked at me with indifference. As long as they don’t look to the English that way, I’ll be happy.

“Have you put sticks on their horns?”

“We’re on it.”

“Good. The English will attack son… and I think I pissed them off a bit,” I smile innocently.

“Fuck, Antonio, there was no need for that… If this doesn’t work, we’ll all be killed.”

_And I’ll be the first to go_ , I think. But come on, we’re not going to let ourselves be carried away by despair— even if it doesn’t work, we’re going to laugh a lot.

Someone yells that every horn has a stick.

All that’s missing is some fire.

**KIRKLAND**

We’re walking towards the city, musket in hand, ready to claim it for the British Crown. Fuck Philip III, he’s going to lose his _Spanish Town_.

… Who am I trying to fool, he’ll probably won’t even hear about this.

I look towards the walls and spot the bastard that’s been ribbing me before. I point at him and tell my men:

“Nobody touch him— He’s mine!”

They all nod, and there are a few chuckles. Fuck, they’ve understood it wrong. I’m going to explain it better because yes, I may have slept with a certain Frenchman once or twice, but doesn’t mean I’m a homosexual or anything like that! So I’m going to tell them that’s not what I mean when I hear a noise that I identify as the city doors opening.

What?

I look over there, frowning. I don’t get it. What are they going to do? They won’t charge against us, right? Okay, the inclination would be an advantage for them, but they don’t have any weapons, as far as I’m aware. Maybe they’ll use hoes and other farming equipment—? Knowing them, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“ _Hey, asshat!_ ” someone yells from the city, and I recognize the bastard. Angry, I look at him… and my blood freezes in my veins. “You may want to run away!”

And suddenly there are tenths of bulls running downhill out of control, with the horns on fire.

Son of a—!

I don’t even have time to finish cursing him. My mind disconnects for a moment, and the next thing I’m aware of is that I’m running downhill with my soldiers, escaping in a chaotic _every man for himself_ from a flaming stampede. I hear screams, and the smell of burnt flesh reaches me every time a poor bastard hasn’t run fast enough or has tripped and fallen.

And fuck, there are a lot of poor bastards.

**CARRIEDO**

“ _Olé_! Look at them run!” I laugh and clap as I watch the bulls charge from the doors of Spanish Town.

“You’re one big son of a whore,” Peláez smiles, waving his head.

“And proud of it!”

He can say what he wants, but we’ve kicked the English out, haven’t we? Fuck, I hadn’t laughed this much in a long while. Between ribbing Lord Eyebrows and the bulls… God, it’s going to be the first thing I tell Roderich when we meet again. He’ll barely laugh because he has no sense of humour, but that’s part of his charm.

“The Englishmen’s red coats are wonderful _capotes_ for the bulls,” I comment.

“Yes, but bullfighters usually put themselves in front of a bull on their own will.”

“Unimportant details…”

The English that have survived have made it to the ship before the bulls caught them. They’re few and I don’t think they’re crazy enough to attack again, so…

Antonio one, Blondie Massive-Eyebrows zero.

As I suspected, the ship weighs anchor and leaves, defeated. When they see it, the citizens start to cheer and clap, joyful. The owners of the bulls and cows aren’t too happy, though, because the animals are still running, scared because their horns are on fire. Poor things. The breeders will spend a fun evening of running behind them and trying to calm them down.

Ah, well, that’s no longer my problem. I think I’ll go take a nap; saving cities in an epic fashion sure is tiring.

And then I’ll try to go back to Europe. It’s full of French and English assholes, but there’s also Roderich and fuck, I miss him.

**KIRKLAND**

I don’t know how, but I’ve made it safe and sound to the ship. There have been many who weren’t as lucky.

I may be called a lot of things, but not irresponsible, and it hurts to admit this, but the Spanish bastard has won this round. They’re fucking insane, man, who thinks of something like that? Only Spaniards, of course, they’re the only fuckers whose national pastime is teasing a bull and dodging it when it charges.

Anyway, I was saying that I’m far from irresponsible, and I can accept (but never admit) a defeat, so I order a dignified retreat… All dignified it can be, after such a show.

Fucking bulls.

Fucking Spaniards.

And especially fucking asshole son of a bitch.

I’m going to draw a portrait of him to practice my aim.

Idiot.

 

 

**CARRIEDO**

I’m the fucking boss.

**Author's Note:**

> The tercios and the "sweet and kind" Duke of Alba: the tercios were the Spanish Empire elite troops, and for two centuries they were the deadliest, most effective soldiers of all Europe. They acted mostly in the rebel Dutch provinces. The Duke of Alba was a nobleman and soldier who had fame of being a bit too bloody. He was placed in charge of some Dutch provinces and he repressed the rebellion with such dedication that he became a total nightmare for the Dutch. (I don't know how much truth there's in this, but it's said that the Dutch don't scare their kids with the boogieman, but with the Duke of Alba. To make up for it, we also send them Sinterklaas, a.k.a. Santa Claus.)  
> Peláez and García are just two random Spanish surnames for two extra characters.  
> And "capote" is the red cloak bullfighters use. I don't think there's an English equivalent, so I just left it in Spanish.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it; reviews are appreciated!


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